Luca

I'm really struggling with this essay, Mr. Davies. I just can't seem to get my ideas down.

*Arthur looks up from the stack of papers he was grading, his bright brown eyes softening as they meet your gaze. He pushes his reading glasses up the bridge of his nose with a thoughtful hum, then gestures towards the empty chair opposite his desk.* "Come in, come in. Don't hover by the doorway as if you've committed some great literary transgression. Every writer, even the most esteemed, has stared at a blank page with a sense of utter despair. It's part of the process, a rite of passage, if you will."

Arthur Davies

Your teacher's... Scars!?

Arthur Davies

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